


Father and Sons

by AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, Tim’s always had this stupid, obvious crush on Dick that no one talked about? That is until Damian did. Talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father and Sons

Batman is a powerful symbol. One that strikes fear into the hearts of Gotham’s criminals, one that makes them think twice - even thrice - about their plans. The Bat is meant to protect the city, protect the innocent, however few they may be.

And yet, there are things the Batman can’t accomplish and he’d learned that the hard way many times over. He can’t protect everyone, least of all those he holds dear.

Tim is hunched up, almost invisible in the shadows where he sits leaning against the gargoyle, his legs dangling over the street below. He hadn’t always been that good at hiding; had made it a game to hide from _Gordon_ until he could. The way the boy merges with the shadows now fills Bruce with pride. Tim is a good child. His son.

“Hey, B.” His voice is weak, failing to omit the hurt, but Bruce already _knows_. He’d been there. He needs to have a word with Damian later.

Red Robin turns, his voice no longer brittle and the cowl keeping his father from seeing his eyes.

Doesn’t matter. He _knows_.

“What do you need me to do?”

That’s all Tim’s asking them these days. Only thinking of how he can be useful, never allowing himself to believe they’re around without needing a favour from the boy.

The problem is that he can do so _much_. Is able to handle almost anything, and it shows. It’s hard not to use those skills Tim so readily offers.

Bruce sighs inaudibly. This isn’t about the Mission. Can’t make it about the mission. Not this time. This isn’t a job for Batman, Gotham’s Dark Knight; it’s a job for Bruce Wayne, father and friend.

“I can do something. For you.” Internally, he cringes at the statement he’d meant to be a question. Tim doesn’t seem to care. Red Robin raises an eyebrow though, a practised smirk tugging at his lips. It’s a kneejerk reaction, Bruce knows. Red Robin’s way to deal, not Tim’s.

The sardonic smile splits to show teeth before his son turns away again, looking over their city. “What, you gonna look the other way when I beat the brat up later?”

There are things he can’t protect his children from. And Tim. He hadn’t been real subtle about it. Couldn’t have been. He’d never realized his hero worship evolved until it was too late, and by then, everyone knew. No one had made a fuss of it, had even openly talked about it. Tim’s love had been this open secret everyone treated as such and Damian - The boy couldn’t really be blamed for thinking ‘everyone’ included Dick Grayson.

And of course, Bruce knew his eldest son had in fact realized his little brother’s feelings, but Dick. He’d never been good with handling that kind of affection from people he actually cared about. Choosing to just not think of them and hoping for the best. Hoping it was a phase or a mild crush or… something.

Tim hadn’t known though. Hadn’t _let_ himself know that his big brother was actually in on the secret.

Not for the first time, Bruce regrets being unable to teach his children other things than fighting crime. Things he isn’t good at either. Things that concern their own emotions and hearts.

“Tim.” His son shifts noticeably at the sound of his own name and Bruce forces the next words from his throat. “I know it’s hard. You can talk to me.”

There’s a tension in the boy’s shoulders that wouldn’t have been there were he still sixteen. Still Robin. His partner.

“What is, B? What should I talk about?” He’s laughing a little and Bruce is uncomfortably reminded of the times another boy had crouched by his side, laughing almost hysterically at the unbelievable stupidity of one criminal or the other. Tim’s removing his cowl though, finally taking the mask of Red Robin off and giving his father a chance. “We don’t _talk_ , Bruce. Not about those things.”

He is turning slightly towards him and Bruce takes this as an incentive to get closer, close enough so he could touch Tim’s shoulder if he would dare.

Tim’s gotten bigger. Grown up. And it’s not just his body, his face or hands, it’s his eyes that strike Bruce so often as strange. Unfamiliar. Because he’d left with a Robin at home, his partner, his consciousness. A young, impressionable boy who was thinking in black and white and had that spark in his eyes. That innocence and wonder and hope.

And when he’d come back. When he’d first heard Tim’s name at the Tower, it had been those eyes he’d expected.

Now though.

Well, it wasn’t a mirror.

Would never be. Tim wasn’t him and for that, Bruce was grateful.  
When he’d finally gotten a hold of reality, had noticed Tim standing there, holding Batman’s cowl, the boy hadn’t been wearing the suit. Not the red and green and yellow one. Hadn’t been Robin anymore. And his eyes had lost that too, had lost Robin.

There were more. As if to make up for the loss of Robin, there had been so many Tim had tried to be. Bruce’d caught sight of Nightwing and Oracle, Spoiler, Batgirl, even Blue Beetle and Green Arrow. But there had also been others, some unfamiliar and some he’d been concerned about. Shiva, and Ra’s. King Kobra. Bane. Even a hurtful spark of Azrael, of Catwoman and Red Hood.

Tim hadn’t been Robin anymore.

Hadn’t been his.

But for all those he’d seen there, the one he’d recognized, the one who’d brought him back from the brink of insanity had been his son. Tim. And even now, Tim was still there.

Now that the conglomerate of personalities the boy had tried on had boiled down to Red Robin. Now that Red Robin had found and made his own place. Tim was still there. Still the boy he had left, but somehow not.

Those eyes, so unfamiliar familiar finally met his without any kind of mask. Not the cowl, not Red Robin or any other personality.

Just his son. Just Tim.

Not the Tim he’d left behind, but the Tim he was slowly getting to know again.

“We don’t talk about… _that_ ,” he repeated, blinking fast enough to be obvious.

“Heartbreak.”

The boy snorted, an honest laugh ripping out of his throat. “Heartbreak? Nah. Utter mortification, more like it.” His laughter turned a little helpless. “Look, Bruce, I know he doesn’t like me that way. He never did and I always knew. I tried to get rid of it.” This time, his son can’t hold his gaze. He looks away, actually turning his head and taking a breath. It’s hard and Bruce knows. “I learned to live with it, though.”

Tim exhales raggedly and pulls his legs to his chest; wrapping his arms around them in that poor substitute for a hug he consoles himself with these days.

Bruce steps closer, letting Batman’s cape fall around his son when he feels Tim’s head lean against his thigh. He can’t turn back time, can’t take the secret back from where Damian’s careless words had dragged it in the open. So he’s hiding his son from the world, if only for a few moments. Granting him time to regroup, to deal, to _breathe_.

Batman is a powerful symbol. A vigilante and fighter for justice. A protector of Gotham’s innocent. He still can’t protect everyone, sometimes not even his children.

Still. He’s never going to stop trying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little piece of work!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of kisses, pebbles and truths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081156) by [AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge)




End file.
